Desk Jockying
My office is so strung out we could make a fortune selling our blood because there is some natural crack running around in there. We are a pack of seriously fucked up desk jockeys. We even are going through the typical drug mood swings.
Arrive – Happy, noses lift into the air seeking coffee.
See desk in peripheral vision – frown a bit but the coffee lends hope.
See desk closer – the coffee has lied, there is no hope.
Phone rings – glancing at the clock, staff wonders why they’ve arrived before actual work time. They blame the fish because he’s handy.
Sounds of the phone being angrily answered by Bosslady – Put out tone of voice because she has heard sounds of life in the building and yet no one has become ready to begin the acrobats of the office yet.
The staff is still optimistic.
The morning smoke is greeted with glee, this is our high point.
Work. Phones. Bitching, Stomping. The staff has come down from the drug peak. They want more, they need something and beg each other silently with their dull gazes, but the person returning the gaze has an even more dazed expression and offers nothing to help but an occasional fax delivery to save another the tiresome task of leaving one’s chair. This is also done in gloom and a grunt is offered in return should a mumbled “thank you” be presented.
Everyone is too defeated to take offense.
Lunchtime!
Perking up, gonna eat…. The staff remotely resembles a dog at suppertime, hopping a little and turning in the circles looking for the tail they’ll never quite catch. The drug has kicked back in!
Mid-afternoon. The staff starts to think about life. Why am I here? Is this IT?
Late afternoon – please, just kill me.
Closing time …. Poof….. they vanish THAT fast.
--
Memorable quote of today:
“Oh.. well you wouldn’t know… you’re just a receptionist.”
/pause with a half laugh “Well I’m not JUST a receptionist and some would argue I’m not one at all…..”
“I didn’t mean it that way. My secretary just shot me the death ray look for saying that.”
“I would think so.”
--
Bosslady got a new floor mat today, it sat in my office as a hopper until it went to the garbage, and I tell you, I had been smelling something fucked up but I never suspected it was the enemy in charge of the funk. The smell was somewhere between ethnic food mixed with an athlete foot ridden toe inserted into a rotting crotch. I planned to come home and sniff the dogs asses to clear my nostrils of that awful fucking stench. Odiferous – non – appreciated is what I called that mat as I drug it’s ass out the door, damn near killing myself because it has all those spikey bits on the underbelly and weighs more that it stank (bold statement).
I’m going to make a National Desk Jockey Day soon. We are NOT receptionists, or secretaries, or handlers – although we are frequently tasked with handling people who need to grow up and recognize their problem is not my emergency. Hear that Bosslady? Wait shit… you sign my check. It’s totally my emergency. Working in an office is doldrums to me. Repetitive. I’d like a week where no one talked. They could smile and you’d know you did good, and if you got the finger you’d know to pack your shit. Elementary!
-DM
Arrive – Happy, noses lift into the air seeking coffee.
See desk in peripheral vision – frown a bit but the coffee lends hope.
See desk closer – the coffee has lied, there is no hope.
Phone rings – glancing at the clock, staff wonders why they’ve arrived before actual work time. They blame the fish because he’s handy.
Sounds of the phone being angrily answered by Bosslady – Put out tone of voice because she has heard sounds of life in the building and yet no one has become ready to begin the acrobats of the office yet.
The staff is still optimistic.
The morning smoke is greeted with glee, this is our high point.
Work. Phones. Bitching, Stomping. The staff has come down from the drug peak. They want more, they need something and beg each other silently with their dull gazes, but the person returning the gaze has an even more dazed expression and offers nothing to help but an occasional fax delivery to save another the tiresome task of leaving one’s chair. This is also done in gloom and a grunt is offered in return should a mumbled “thank you” be presented.
Everyone is too defeated to take offense.
Lunchtime!
Perking up, gonna eat…. The staff remotely resembles a dog at suppertime, hopping a little and turning in the circles looking for the tail they’ll never quite catch. The drug has kicked back in!
Mid-afternoon. The staff starts to think about life. Why am I here? Is this IT?
Late afternoon – please, just kill me.
Closing time …. Poof….. they vanish THAT fast.
--
Memorable quote of today:
“Oh.. well you wouldn’t know… you’re just a receptionist.”
/pause with a half laugh “Well I’m not JUST a receptionist and some would argue I’m not one at all…..”
“I didn’t mean it that way. My secretary just shot me the death ray look for saying that.”
“I would think so.”
--
Bosslady got a new floor mat today, it sat in my office as a hopper until it went to the garbage, and I tell you, I had been smelling something fucked up but I never suspected it was the enemy in charge of the funk. The smell was somewhere between ethnic food mixed with an athlete foot ridden toe inserted into a rotting crotch. I planned to come home and sniff the dogs asses to clear my nostrils of that awful fucking stench. Odiferous – non – appreciated is what I called that mat as I drug it’s ass out the door, damn near killing myself because it has all those spikey bits on the underbelly and weighs more that it stank (bold statement).
I’m going to make a National Desk Jockey Day soon. We are NOT receptionists, or secretaries, or handlers – although we are frequently tasked with handling people who need to grow up and recognize their problem is not my emergency. Hear that Bosslady? Wait shit… you sign my check. It’s totally my emergency. Working in an office is doldrums to me. Repetitive. I’d like a week where no one talked. They could smile and you’d know you did good, and if you got the finger you’d know to pack your shit. Elementary!
-DM
posted by DMorgan's Zoo at
5:46 PM
4 Comments:
LOL Sounds like my office!! Tho there are the petty ones that won't say Good Morning. Who doesn't say Good Morning?!!
Me. I'm rotten that way, because how do I know? I try not to lie... lol Saff.
I try to be perky in here during morningtime. It will usually wear off 'bout 10am. I'm coming up on 2 years of looking at these... well, are they supposed to be seafoam green or robin's egg blue? I can't figure it out. They are the walls. And I have not got to the point of vomiting yet, but there was a distinct nausea all day yesterday. And the phones... let's just say, I am not disgruntled with my job, I actually still rather enjoy being here, but really now... you hit the nail on the head!
Our office is literally falling apart at the seams. We all get vertigo going into the file room and my cubicle is on such a slant that when I get up my chair goes backwards and I have to adjust my monitor every morning to make it straight again! LOL
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